The TellTale Sign
by WeatherWatch
Summary: Lavender meets a masked stranger at the Parkinson's Spring Ball. She must guess his name, and it's not Rumpelstiltskin.


**Disclaimer: I will leave it to you to decide whether I own Harry Potter. I trust your intelligence to assume correctly.**

**A/N: Yes, I am going through a Lavender phase. =] Lav-Lav for life. *hem* **

The delicate clicking of heel against tiled floor alerted Parvati to her closest friend's presence in the room and she turned to appraise the blonde's choice of attire - not to mention her hair, make-up, shoe preference and jewellery.

After a time consuming and rigorous beauty routine, Lavender Brown had finally descended the staircase to reveal a stunning floor length gown, with a wide skirt - that rustled seductively as she gracefully manoeuvred towards the centre of the atrium - intricate patterns of beading and lace covered every inch of the scarlet silk.

"Oh, Lav. You've outdone yourself: you look utterly fabulous!" Parvati exclaimed, her hand rested against her cheek as she soaked in the gorgeous image before her. "Where on earth did you find that dress?"

Lavender let a smug smile grace her lips, twirling agilely, before replying.

"Madam Malkin was thinking of disposing of it, it being so old-fashioned, but I managed to persuade her to pass it off to me." She ran her hand against her corseted sides, smiling fondly as she recalled the conversation. Of course, she had begged Madam Malkin to give it to her, rather than disassemble it and reuse the beads and lace for a more modern appearance, but Parvati wouldn't care about the details. All that mattered was that it was here, and it was gorgeous.

"Nice work." Parvati answered, impressed. "Now, remember, tonight will be amazing, even with all those awful Death Eater Slytherin offspring running around." She wrinkled her nose daintily before continuing.

"I know you said you're happy for Weasley and Hermione, but I think you're lying and completely jealous. So let's find you a fine piece of wealthy man-flesh for you to date." Parvati was a woman on mission.

"Remember: be confident, and the charmers will come to you. Be intelligent, and you'll lose the superficial, but be yourself and you'll find a winner." Parvati concluded her usual spiel about Lavender's 'single' status.

One year out of Hogwarts, the battle won by the Light, Parvati and Lavender had found themselves working for a wizarding fashion magazine and as a designer for Madam Malkin respectively, and the latter had found herself awkwardly discarded as two thirds of the Golden Trio finally discovered their rather obvious desire for one another. Despite this, and the fact that the money wasn't spectacular, (yet, Parvati always added) they enjoyed their work and acknowledged that it did keep a roof over their heads.

Tonight however, was result of Parvati's dreadful luck in obtaining a ticket to the Parkinson Spring Ball only to be told her deadline for the next issue was being reduced, leaving Lavender dressed up like period Royalty - not that she wasn't grateful for her friend's thoughtfulness, after all Parkinson Balls were the elite of the Pureblood families all contained within one, rather large, ballroom.

"Darling, I think you look stunning, and I'm willing to put some money on you snagging at least one fine, strapping young man." Parvati told her friend, smiling devilishly and holding out her hand to seal her bet.

Lavender rolled her eyes, but accepted the hand.

"You always say that, Parv."

"And this time, I'm definitely right."

Laughter echoed through the small atrium, interrupted as Parvati's wand let off a red spark to alert her of the waiting carriage. Together, they walked to the door, and as Lavender climbed into the princely, horse drawn vehicle she heard Parvati call out to her.

"Knock 'em dead, Blondie. And make sure your boy's got a friend." A meaningful wink sent Lavender on her way, shaking her head as she smiled at the dark skinned witch's antics.

**

Lavender's porcelain skin contrasted against the stark red of her gown seemed to be drawing Pureblood males by the bundle, as Lavender escaped the third old man of the night, after previously having wormed her way out of rather awkward – on her part – conversations with Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott and even, bizarrely enough, Cassius Warrington, whom she remembered from school even though he was several years older than her.

Her decision to refuse advances from ex-Death Eaters, and consequently their offspring, had required her to pull out a number of near-forgotten escape manoeuvres from her school years, and had resulted, now, in her hiding on one of the small alcove balconies.

Her slender fingers reached out to clasp the cool metal railing, and she stood in silence, feeling the gentle caress of the wind. Her solitude, however, did not last.

"Why in Merlin's name is the 'Belle of the Ball' hiding herself out here?" A gravelly, masculine voice broke her reverie, and she could hear a faint level of teasing and a smile in his question. Turning, she was met with a finely dressed young man, his black hair cut short, but shaggy. His face was covered with a mask, although it was not at all necessary with the darkness of the night blanketing the area.

"You must be mistaken," Lavender replied, "I'm certainly not the 'belle of the ball' as you so eloquently put it, and I'm not hiding." She smiled despite herself.

"Ah, but you are, Miss Brown." His voice was tantalisingly familiar, and his address reminded her of Hogwarts, but she dismissed it, enjoying the flirtatious manner of her new partner in conversation.

"You know my name?"

"Of course." He sounded smug; typical male.

"Pray tell then, do I know you?" She asked him, turning once more to face the gardens, a small smile fixed on her face.

Lavender felt his presence behind her, and willed herself to refrain from leaning back into his warm body.

"Perhaps." The masked stranger answered.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me?"

"Now, where would the fun be in that?" Came his quick fire reply. "In fact, I think we could make a game out of this: if you guess my name, I will give you anything you desire. If you don't, then you must give me something."

Lavender pondered this for a moment, but was unable to focus a great deal on the wager as the masked man ran a gentle finger from her neck to her waist, his breath tickling her neck as he moved closer to her body.

His large hands trailed down to rest against her hips, and his soft lips grazed her sensitive neck, sucking and paying loving attention to the area, before biting down on the soft skin. Subconsciously, Lavender's body traitorously responded to his ministrations, she moaned softly, and turned to face him. Their new position encouraged him to raise his mouth hers, capturing it in a rough kiss, his tongue sliding against her lower lip, requesting entrance. Willingly, she gave it.

Dazedly, Lavender noticed his hands relocate from her waist to a position slightly higher up, tenderly brushing against her breasts when he felt like it. With slightly more awareness the blonde witch discerned the tent in her masked lover's pants as his body aligned with hers.

Smirking, she dragged her fingers down his chest until they rested above his belt, feeling thoroughly desired as he placed soft kisses down her jaw. Deciding everything in that moment of reciprocated lust – she didn't dare call it love – she deftly removed his belt.

**

Breathing heavily, feeling utterly spent, and more content than she'd ever felt before, Lavender leaned into her lover's embrace, fitting perfectly against his body.

"Any ideas?" He asked her, his voice muffled by her hair. "About my name." He clarified when she made a non-committal questioning noise.

"Rumpelstiltskin?" She yawned, jokingly before giggling at his raised eyebrow.

"Proper guesses, angel. But you're one down now." She felt him grin against her hair and snuggled closer.

"Can I ask you questions?"

"Any, but it doesn't mean I'll be answering them all."

"What house were you in at Hogwarts?" Lavender queried, closing her eyes and inhaling his scent.

"The greatest."

"Slytherin I take it, what with that sense of humility." She deduced, dryly even as a smile graced her features.

"Naturally."

"Older or younger?"

He paused, gently playing with a lock of her hair, before answering with the former.

"You're not Pucey, are you?" He laughed at the pleading note in her voice.

"No, angel, I'm not Adrian." She let out a breath, but her relaxation was short-lived as she heard voices inside the ballroom announcing the end of the festivities.

Standing hurriedly, she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the glass doors. Her neck sported a reasonably obvious love bite, with distinctive markings.

Feeling suddenly gleeful as her brain finally recognised the gorgeous man beside her, Lavender slyly stepped towards the open doorway.

"I had a lovely time, Marcus." She smirked as his jaw dropped in shock. She went to leave, but turned slightly to face him once more, a beautiful smile adorning her doll-like face.

"Oh, and Marcus, Parvati wants to know if you've got any available friends." Winking suggestively, she tried to scarper.

Surprisingly, although it was not unwelcome, Lavender felt herself being pulled backward against a strong, muscled chest. Marcus Flint's lip brushed the shell of her ear as he whispered.

"Well done, angel. Now you get the prize. Tell me what you want?" Lavender shivered under his lust-filled stare and his appraising hands.

"You." She whispered faintly in response. "I want you. And not just as a one night stand." With that, she turned in his arms and wrapped her own around his neck, melting against his form and kissing him, barely observing that he had removed his mask as he caressed the love bite on her neck.

**Another completely random Lavender piece... I should really get back to Slytherin Half, eh. That's next, after HSC Jap speaking (tomorrow! Eeep!)… Hope you kind of like this, despite its utterly random nature. And pairing. If anyone reads it… =P**

**Reviews = sustenance during HSC. Please give generously =D**


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